


The Doctor Remembers

by denise (denise3)



Series: TBG: The Enterprise and the Doctor [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Doctor Who AU, Gen, Interlude, Star Trek 50th Anniversary, alternate Doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 05:36:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5731357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/denise3/pseuds/denise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor returns to his TARDIS after leaving the Enterprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Doctor Remembers

**Author's Note:**

> As a rule, we won't follow the Doctor's perspective in this series. This is one of the exceptions.

The humanlike alien known as the Doctor closed the door behind him and slumped against it, barely holding himself up. It had been two very long local days since his arrival, but he was finally home. His ship hummed around him, she was glad to have him back. He stood with difficulty and stumbled to the console, launching her into the Vortex. Now he'd finally be able to rest and think.

Once his ship stabilized into a holding pattern in the Vortex, he walked carefully to the medbay and lay down on the automated biobed. It was certainly a welcome addition to the TARDIS. The few companions he'd allowed to come with him lately had often needed to use it. His life was dangerous. A couple of times, the biobed had saved their lives. It had been a number of years since he himself had last had occasion to use it, but it was easier, quicker, and more reliable than patching himself up or resorting to a healing trance. Ever since his last regeneration, he'd taken advantage of every opportunity to fix or improve his ship's systems, and she was now in better condition than she'd been at any other time in his long life. She was his best, most faithful companion, but still, he sometimes missed having someone else to talk to. But it was better this way. He shuddered to think what would have happened, what he might have been forced to do, if he had arrived on this last planet with a companion. No, he wasn't going to allow others to sacrifice their lives for him again.

As the biobed started its diagnostic and pre-treatment routine, adjusted for his biology, he recalled the recent events. He'd noticed he was being followed almost immediately after arriving on the planet. His ship'd brought him to the wrong place again, though he was certain he'd fixed the navigation circuits this time. Once there, however, he couldn't resist looking around. The strange humanoid natives weren't exactly hostile, but they were reserved and wary of strangers. A bit more than what would've been normal if it was just their way, so he was quickly suspicious there was something untoward happening. Not that that was unusual for him. He eventually found out about the off-worlders, and then he was apprehended. Again, nothing unusual for him. What was unusual was that they weren't interested in talking. They just beat him up and threw him into that dark hole of a cell.

It was who he found there that disturbed him most. Starfleet officers, from the so-called United Federation of Planets. An interstellar, multi-species body which owed its creation and present form to the humans who comprised its heart. He liked humans, they were his favorite species. But he'd never liked spending too much time mixed up with Federation personnel. There was something about them that made him feel uneasy. Not that that had ever stopped him coming here. It almost seemed that his ship shared his fascination about these people, if he considered the number of times she had brought him to this part of the galaxy.

Most others of his kind wouldn't even consider the possibility of visiting this galaxy. The High Council had declared it off-limits a long time ago. He was the last one to be sent here with any sort of official exemption, in his third life. Regardless, he'd been coming here all his life. It was a safe place where he could hide from his own people. It also had many interesting species and civilizations, and he'd already met many of them. He'd made many friends, even if he had to keep his true identity and origins secret from them. He'd made many enemies as well. Surely many of these stops were due to occasional faults in the navigation system of his ship, but he almost always enjoyed them. Except in this last incarnation.

There was something he had forgotten. A few somethings. He was certain he'd already met the captain of the Federation starship and his Vulcan first officer, but he couldn't remember the circumstances. Nevertheless, he'd initially thought this would be yet another one-off encounter, until the Wamarraki's presence, plus the many little details he observed and collected, began painting a grim picture of the situation. Something bigger was at stake. Whoever it was behind the Galinedorian incident, the Federation was probably about to face an opponent way beyond their league.

If he was right in his suspicions about what was really happening, he'd have to get involved. At least that Starfleet crew were interesting people. He was sorry he'd been forced to put the young Rahdi Ederit to sleep, but he had to get out of their ship before his body failed him completely. The three hours he'd rested in the cell had barely been enough to stand and walk unassisted, and to fake his recovery for the time he needed to help them deal with the cloaked raider. But he couldn't let them examine him, and he wouldn't be able to answer their questions. Not yet.

That Vulcan first officer, Spock. A fascinating individual. He seemed to be both extremely curious and perceptive, even more than what he would have expected from a Vulcan. He believed he'd managed to get through to him. He had enough experience with Vulcans to understand them and make himself understood. The captain, though, was another story. He could tell that the human felt an instinctive distrust, even fear, towards him, although he acted perfectly accepting. He couldn't blame him. Captain Kirk was clearly an outstanding, intuitive officer with very good instincts, and a professional willingness to reserve judgment until he had better information. He would have to be careful to avoid getting on his bad side.

The biobed tinkled, interrupting his thoughts, and he spent some time reviewing the diagnostic and adjusting the recommended treatment parameters through the telepathic interface. It would begin by treating the most severe injuries to his internal organs. Then it'd proceed to fix his ribs, four of which were fractured. Those guards had been angry, mistaking him for a Federation spy. It was quite possible he would've been fatally injured if that Parangan hadn't appeared when he did. Not a Parangan, no. A Zarren, surgically altered to resemble a Parangan. He had recognized him by the language he used to contact his commander. By then he was already faking unconsciousness, but that hadn't stopped the guards. The order barked by the Zarren, however, did. The Doctor had also recognized the callsign he used in his report, but it took him a while to remember what it was. It was Wamarraki. The Zarren, as one of the major and the most aggressive species in the Omora Confederacy, made up the majority of the Wamarraki. What they were doing this far out was another question.

He'd told the captain he recognized the Wamarraki from their badges. A lie. He could barely see their silhouettes at that point. But he couldn't admit to knowing their language, as that would only raise questions he wasn't prepared to answer yet. He'd have to be careful, he shouldn't lie to them. Oh, he lied a lot, especially when he wasn't likely to be caught. But those officers were smarter than most, and they were already wary of him. He needed them to trust him the next time they met.

These Starfleet officers hadn't known him yet, so, from the beginning, he'd acted as he often would, trying to impress them and gain their trust. It had been surprisingly hard. He'd had to promise the Vulcan he'd explain himself later. He still intended to make good his promise, but he now suspected it might take a while. Meanwhile, he'd better let them believe he was just a human citizen of the Federation. He'd tried to make sure that everything he did to help them was explainable in terms of their technology and capabilities, but he hadn't been entirely successful.

He was lucky no one thought to ask about his 'non-standard' modifications to the communicator, made to defeat the scattering field so the transporter could lock on to them. But he'd been forced to do many alterations to the diagnostics and security routines of the _Enterprise_ 's computer in order to conceal his escape, and these, together with his dangerous override of the transporter safety measures, would probably raise suspicions. Worst of all was the information on the cloaking pattern, which had been the key to tracking and defeating the cloaked Wamarraki raider. Not even he knew where that had come from. It'd appeared apparently from nowhere in his sonic screwdriver. Something else he'd have to worry about.

A whirring noise, and the biobed arm was over his head, working to reduce his concussion. It was almost done. He'd have to sleep and rest to complete his recovery. That was a good opportunity to enter a trance. He needed to recover all the memories of his previous contacts with Federation personnel. He'd already met many in various occasions, he was sure of that, but almost all of those memories had been supressed. He'd probably had good reasons for that, but now he needed them all.

That Starfleet crew was one of the best. They'd acted quickly and professionally, and they had a good sense of priorities. It wouldn't have been enough to avoid the trap, however. Probably. Their captain was unusual. He'd only met another human like him once. If he was at all like that other one, it was no wonder the TARDIS had brought him here. This one would make things unpredictable. It was refreshing, exciting. The Doctor would very much like to know him better. That is, if the human allowed it.

He felt the biobed's hum change tone. It was trying to induce sleep. He let himself slip into his memory-recovery trance.

After a considerable amount of time, irrelevant really with the TARDIS floating in the Vortex, the Doctor opened his eyes and sat up on the biobed. He was fully healed, and more importantly, he'd recovered the memories he needed. He frowned. He couldn't be fully certain yet, but things were probably even worse than he had thought. Much worse. The circumstances would also make it extremely dangerous for him. There was too much at stake, and his involvement would complicate things even more. He'd have to proceed carefully, and avoid revealing too much, too soon. He'd also have to stick to the sidelines this time. At most, he could make sure the captain and crew of the _Enterprise_ would be present where and when they'd be needed and trust them with doing their jobs. He had a feeling that, if anyone could, they'd be able to defeat their opponents all by themselves. Not that that would have been enough to save them in the end.

He shook his head. He didn't like the path he'd have to take. He had a choice, he could still leave. Fat chance. He was the Doctor. His decision was made, and he was part of the events now. Besides, he had at least some advantages on his side. But there was a lot he had to learn before he could proceed. Starting with the warship the Wamarraki had acquired. And he knew exactly where he should begin his investigation. He'd have to check what the Parangans knew.


End file.
